


Untitled 1 | Bleach

by orphan_account



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 17:16:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7942621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The way I said “I love you”<br/><a href="http://trash-by-vouge.tumblr.com/post/132858041745">7.</a> as a thank you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled 1 | Bleach

Yoruichi was no longer a woman of any titles. And the title of Shunshin was no more than a thing of the past. Her name bore no weight in the present day; her being Shunshin did not inspire awe, and her being a Shihōin did not matter since she was cast off from its ranks of her clan.

Shunshin? What of Suì-Fēng-taichō? Or the odd Shinigami Kurosaki?

Needless to say, the present generation knew nothing of her. Much of what happened about a century ago was concealed and buried under propaganda. But even then, the truth was far from what anyone knew.

All that's left of her is a spot in the history books. A Shihoin predecessor declared dead and replaced later by a younger brother. The rest is brought up like a dirty secret, as rumors are passed along in a wide range of variation. Like an urban myth told through and through to answer small mysteries that lurked in their captain's eyes.

And in disappearing for a hundred years, Soul Society changed without her like it should. So when she returns to rescue yet another victim of a past gone wrong, adjusting to the current time had worn her out. Being a century late does that, she supposes.

“Yoruichi-sama?”

And then, there was Suì-Fēng. She’s dressed in her sleeveless haori, the symbol of ni, 二 on her back, and a yellow obi tied around her thin waist. And underneath all of it (the haori, the shihakushō) was the battle dress made for the sole gundanchō of Gotei.

They're at the compound of the Second Division, out in the open air of the garden where Suì-Fēng comes along carrying a tray as routine.

“Yoruichi-sama, I brought some tea.”

The world has an odd sense of humor. To think Yoruichi would have the honor of having a captain serve her tea like it's her due; as if she hadn't run out of the privilege in her blood. And Yoruichi never went back to reclaim a status from long ago. It didn't matter anymore. She can't bring herself to care.

Not even after Aizen finally revealed all that he has done and destroyed. Soul Society may have changed without her, but she's moved on just as well.

Yet here was Suì-Fēng, pouring her a cup of tea just like old times. They should be equals now. But Yoruichi can't help resume their old relationship while Suì-Fēng continues to dote on her as she had been raised to do so. And if that's what it takes to give the other woman closure, then Yoruichi owes it to her to play along.

Still, she no longer mentors the younger woman. Suì-Fēng is strong and old enough to train on her own. But Yoruichi often calls on her for aid in reconnaissance missions, partners with her in fights when they're together, and they're a much better fit now. Deadlier and effective.

Yoruichi is so proud of her. But she'll never tell her, though. Doesn't need to make Suì-Fēng hang on every word of her approval. Doesn't need to let the woman know how she sometimes watches over her from afar, restraining herself to wait until she can't help but catch her when she falls.

Because here was her former protégée, an embodiment of the calm before the storm. Suì-Fēng is a woman she's proud of because she is a woman who built herself tirelessly from will alone and who earned the right to occupy the seat reserved for those of Shihoin blood.

It was that independence that pulled Yoruichi to her, and it was the one thing she would never take away.

Her tea has gone cold now, and Suì-Fēng is offering to pour her another cup. But before she could tip the spout into a new one, Yoruichi stills her with a hand on hers.

Confused, she asks what's wrong. Was the tea bad? Did she want something else?

Yoruichi smiles at her, to ease the crease in Suì-Fēng's brows. She pats the space near her, a gesture inviting the captain to sit by her side.

Suì-Fēng makes a curious face but does not question. She stands and walks over to her, folding the garments of her uniform before getting down on her knees. Once she’s knelt beside Yoruichi, with gray eyes ever attentive, the older woman then reaches behind her head, pulling her face close until their foreheads touch.

Suì-Fēng's face is quickly turning red, a fond memory from a century ago coming to mind.

Yoruichi ruffles her hand through black locks, the texture soft and smooth, before whispering to her a solemn, “Thank you.”


End file.
